Trouble
by sellthelie
Summary: Peace and quiet are a rare thing in a Weasley home.


**Title: **Trouble  
**By: ****mandyjg**  
**Rating: **G  
**Pairing: **Fred/Hermione  
**Summary: **Peace and quiet are a rare thing in a Weasley home.  
**A/N: **Written for the first round at **fwhgldws**. 740words. The challenge was: Prank.

**Trouble**

It was one of those perfect afternoons that Hermione wished would never end.

The house was quiet, _empty_. All the things that she couldn't do during the week with the kids under her feet, she could do now. It didn't work that way though, it seemed as soon as they closed the door behind them, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed, and sleep the afternoon away. She loved her children, their quirks, and their terrible habits, she also loved her _me_ time.

With the help of magic she had tidied the house sufficiently, then with a cup of tea in hand, she had slipped under the covers of her bed with her current reading material. It was nearly impossible to be able to do this with both of them in the house. While they had seemingly inherited both of their parents love of knowledge, they had most definitely taken the constant need for attention, and stimulation from their father.

It was probably because of this that Hermione felt her attention wavering from her book, the urge to close her eyes growing with every page she turned. She decided not to fight it anymore, placing the book on the table beside the bed, Hermione slid under the sheets. The book would still be readable tomorrow.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she was awoken by the children jumping onto her bed, and _whispering_ loudly 'not to wake mum'.

Hermione cracked an eye open, and watched the elder smile quickly. "You're awake."

"I am indeed," she laughed lightly, sitting up properly. "You two are back early, I wasn't expecting you back till dinner time."

"Oh, there was a..."

"Nothing!" Stuart interrupted loudly, shaking his head. "We got bored."

"At the shop?" Hermione said incredulously. "With all the sweets, tricks, everything in the back? You got bored?"

"Hermione, love would you join me in the bathroom?" Fred called out as their children exchanged a look.

"What happened?" She asked quickly, getting out of bed as fast.

"Nothing!"

"It was an accident!"

"Stay here," Hermione said firmly, heading down the hall to the small bathroom. As she entered the room, she asked, "What is it?"

Fred closed the door as she laughed loudly, "This isn't funny, _remember_? Can't laugh when they are in trouble."

"Right," she shook her head, fighting the urge to chuckle. "But you have feathers, _and_ a tail."

"Oh I know," he said wryly. "I noticed."

"What the hell happened? How did they do this?" Hermione whispered, turning him around to get a good look at his new appendage.

"Well Stuart thought he'd slip one of the animal charm nougats into my coffee, melted it in good and proper. I couldn't even taste the darn thing," Fred sighed, attempting to lean against the counter, pulling the tail around. "While Jen thought she'd get me with a canary cream, never thought she'd do that, so I took the blasted thing straight off the plate. Cream, then drank me bloody coffee. Never saw it coming. Great kids you've got there love."

"They're not just mine because you're mad at them," she smiled, tugging the tail with a chuckle. "Take after you more than anything."

"And any other day I'd be happy, but I'm half cat, half bloody bird," Fred snapped.

"Why haven't you moulted then? I thought the creams lasted five minutes tops," she pulled a feather out, only to watch another quickly grow in place. "Oh dear."

"That's what I thought," he grumbled. "I can only assume the components in both charms don't really work all that well together, and they are both sticking. George and I tried every freaking antidote we had, and some we never even thought up. Decided to come home when I couldn't take them snickering in the corner anymore."

"You can't be disappointed," Hermione smiled, wrapping an arm around his waist, the feathers tickling the skin on her forearm.

"I'm not, I just wish they directed it at someone else. At least then I could laugh properly, and then figure out how to get rid of it."

"I'm afraid there's only one way to get rid of this," she sighed, pulling him to the door. "Now no smiling remember. Firm, tough."

"Right," Fred nodded, following her down the hall.

As she passed their bedroom, she said to their children, "Come on. We have to take Dad to the hospital."

* * *


End file.
